Moriarty
by Blusilver
Summary: James Moriarty never existed-but Harry Potter did. With a single, split-second decision, the history and future of the world is irreparably changed beyond anything this fandom has ever imagined.
1. The Beginning

**This was an idea that came to mind after watching the first two seasons of 'Sherlock'. To be perfectly honest, I'm shocked I haven't come across something similar at **_**all**_** over Fanfiction (Edit: My bad, unintentional lie. Just been sent a link to one, but it doesn't elaborate very well. It did, however, serve as epic inspiration for the future of this story, so check out the reviews-it's in there somewhere). So, how could I resist? A bit of curiosity and a single delay can change the tide of the future in _such_ a major way-isn't that just **_**fascinating**_**? I do hope you all have fun reading this-and if not, read it anyways. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Is it just me or is this the more idiotic thing writers have to type in? It's called **_**fanfiction**_** for a reason. Now, it's if we **_**publish**_** it that bad stuff'll happen. Stuff like evil government monkeys burning your house down and taking all your money and electronics away. *Shudders***

**(Edited 12:13 AM 3/4/13) Yep, couldn't wait for it. **

_It was a turn of unlikely circumstance-extraordinarily unlikely, but it happened nonetheless-that brought Harry Potter in contact with one Mr. Borgin, owner of the dubious Knockturne Alley store advertising a number of equally, if not more so, dubious products. A single mispronounced word sent him careening from his intended destination of Diagon Alley and into the shop of Borgin & Burkes', and an unexpected delay of a certain bleached blonde family led to the most drastic change of Harry's future that has ever existed. _

Harry coughed as he pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself off from the hectic Floo trip, fumbling for and polishing his poorly-mended glasses before balancing them precariously on his nose and taking a look around. The store he was in was full of admittedly fascinating artifacts and strange magical _things_ that he didn't expect to find in Diagon Alley-or anywhere, really. Catching a movement farther back in the shop, he called out softly, for some reason not wanting to disturb the heavy, blanket-like silence infusing the place.

"Uh, hello? Is anyone there?" He frowned, tugging on his uncomfortable generic black robes, just wanting to leave and find the Weasleys to pick up his school supplies. A movement once again caught his peripheral vision, and he spun. "Hey! Do you know where I can get to the bookstore-uh, Flourish and Blott's-"

"I _know_ the place," a gruff voice snapped from seemingly right behind him. Harry jumped and turned, taking several quick steps back before nearly falling into a display case holding a wax hand-or was it a severed hand covered in wax, and were those _candle wicks_ on the fingers?! He shuddered and looked back at the one who had spoken. The speaker was a bit over six feet tall, a mop of receding silver-grey hair and lightly peppered beard his only defining features. The rest of the man was entirely average-brown eyes, unremarkable slightly-tanned skin, and faded red and black robes-and certainly not what Harry had expected to see a person wearing in a store like _this_. It was almost, well, normal. For the scenery, at least.

The boy blinked, confused at the unexpected comment. "Ah, that's-that's great, and you see, I must've taken a wrong turn or something because-"

"Despite what many believe," the man interrupted yet again, beginning to annoy Harry. "Magic is not based on words, but _intent _and _necessity_. You believed you needed to get to Diagon Alley, but you were brought here. Why?" He offered a humorless smirk. "Certainly not from a stuttered word. My name is Borgin-Ambrose Borgin, half-owner of Borgin & Burkes'."

"I'm…Harry. And, really, I just want to find my way to get new robes and meet my friends…" Harry was now at a loss. He just wanted directions, not a lecture on how magic worked!-even if it _was_ interesting.

Borgin nodded slowly, sharp eyes assessing every detail, making Harry want to draw in on himself to avoid the gaze that seemed to look inside him. "First time Floo traveler, hm? Second year, undersized robes-taken on your first trip by a more mundane means, most likely the Underground or, considering the disgusting incompetence of the majority of the wizarding world, mere walking. As you've been failed to be informed of the more expensive but ultimately more useful automatically adjusting robes, I'd say you were taken by a Hogwarts staff member who didn't even consider the option, so, a poor or uninformed one-one Rubeus Hagrid who is accurately described by both of those, then. No other _qualified_ professor fits." He raised an eyebrow, assessing Harry once more. "Your friends must not be very well-off either, as they had faulty Floo powder and haven't even informed you of your rather large inheritance. Or, perhaps they're merely using you to get at that money-"

"Alright, don't move on to insulting my friends too!" Harry cut in angrily. "And how did you know about-no, wait, what did you mean by the 'disgusting incompetence' of wizards? _I_ think they're _brilliant_!"

Borgin stared at him levelly. "A wizard I may be, and despite coming from a pureblooded ancestry, I believe in knowing thy enemy, young Mister Potter. Even you should have realized by now the five-hundred-year gap between this society and the muggles'." He crossed his arms and stared out the deliberately filmy windows of the shop. "You see, but you do not _observe_, Mister Potter. Everything is objective-do not bring emotion or prior beliefs into what you deduce, no matter the stories and nonsense fed to you by your peers and elders, or your relationship to the subject in question." Leaning closer, the man whispered quietly to the twelve-year-old. "Come back when you're ready to accept this truth."

The boy was taken aback for a moment, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "That sounds like an awfully _Slytherin_ thing to say."

The man smiled thinly. "As I said, Mister Potter. You are blinded by prior experience and biases. When you rid yourself of those, the world become brighter…so much brighter." He looked like he was reminiscing about a fond memory. " Now, take a left and keep going straight. Good day."

"Wha-wait!" But he was gone, and Harry huffed and cast one more glance around before exiting the shop angrily and storming in the direction Borgin had pointed him.

"Harry! There you are!"

The boy turned to see his best friend Ron-followed closely by members of the Weasley family-jog up to him, weaving through the massive crowd of people that milled around Diagon Alley.

"Where have you been?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, checking Harry over as if she could make out any possible injuries beneath the concealing robes. He was almost worried she could see through them-but that was impossible, right? Well, hopefully, at least. "We've been so worried! You could have gotten hurt, or who _knows-_"

"Molly, dear, he's fine," Mr. Weasley interjected with the chorus of assent from the five children surrounding him. "Nothing's happened, and he knows now to pronounce the destination clearly, yes?"

Not wanting them to worry, Harry pasted on a smile and nod, his previously bad mood evaporating slowly. "Er, yeah. I met this weird old guy, but he gave me directions back to here, and there wasn't anything really, um, threatening on the way back." It was the truth, kind of. He just…_forgot_ to mention that he'd been in Knockturne Alley while receiving the directions. He wasn't even entirely sure _why_ he felt he had to hide even the stuff Borgin had told him, but it would just be weird to add that information now. "Um, by the way, could we stop by Gringotts so I can get some money for shopping? I don't think I have enough with me from last year…"

Mrs. Weasley made a flippant hand motion, waving off his question with annoying ease. "Nonsense, Professor Dumbledore himself gave me your vault key so we wouldn't have to waste time going into that place," Was it just him or did the way she said 'that place' seem more derogatory than usual? Harry grimaced lightly when some of Borgin's words came back to him, unbidden and haunting. _'Or perhaps, they're just using you for that money…'_ He quickly shook his head as if the physical movement would rid him of the thought-but it didn't. If anything, it only made it grow even stronger, planting little, fertile seeds of doubt in his mind.

Finally, he gave in to it, if only to see for himself what her reaction would be. "Er, Mrs. Weasley, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm probably going to need my key and money for Hogwarts, as well. We can buy books from school, can't we, Ron?" he asked to his somewhat oblivious friend. The redhead blinked and his eyes refocused on him.

"Oh, sure, yeah. Yeah, you can get stuff from catalogues and…stuff." The boy shrugged and went back to daydreaming about food, most likely, and Harry turned back to the Weasley parents.

Mrs. Weasley's face flashed into a bitter look before arranging it into a caring smile so quickly Harry almost missed it. _Almost_, but it was there. "Now, dear, I'm sure that's not necessary. You can just send me an owl, and I'll be happy to get anything you need." To Harry's sadness, the doubts-for at least one member of the family he so trusted-were proven true.

The green-eyed boy looked guilty, an expression he'd perfected keeping and erasing after his years at the Dursleys'. "I wouldn't want to trouble you-and besides, I might do some browsing on my own later. It'd be a lot easier, don't you think?" This…this would truly make or break his trust in this family. And he'd felt like he'd almost become a part of it, too…

However, before Mrs. Weasley could reply, Mr. Weasley cut in. "Of course! That sounds like a fantastic idea, Harry." He directed a meaningful look to his wife that Harry was certain he wasn't supposed to see, and she sighed and handed him a bronze key and a small sack of galleons. "Don't spend it all on one outing, and do try to stay together, alright Ron?"

Ron nodded absently, but had once again zoned out while attempting to crane his head to see the quidditch displays hidden by the large throngs of people in the Alley, especially by a long line of people extending out from the bookstore, Flourish & Blott's. Fred and George had scampered ahead to join the line, grudgingly followed by the uptight Percy who seemed to think it was his duty to keep the two mischief-makers in line. Ginny tried to make herself look as small as physically possible, and Ron was now trying to crane his head forwards to see what was causing the obscene line.

"I think…the sign on the window says there's a book signing today," Ron finally deduced. Harry took a quick glance, but his vision gave out before reaching the distance to the window, about thirty feet ahead. He could make out colorful, blurry squiggles which he assumed formed into words. Was his vision that bad? Or did Ron just have good sight?

"Does it say anything else, Mr. Weasley?" he asked. The red-haired man stood on his toes to peer over the crowd's heads. "Why, yes, actually. Apparently, it's the signing for the books by Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Oh, he's actually here?" Mrs. Weasley tried to see past the crowd, but had no such luck with her short stature. She bounced a bit, like a child in a candy store. "How wonderful!"

For some reason, Harry got the distinct impression that neither Ron nor Mr. Weasley were very impressed or pleased with her statement. Their looks were identical ones of annoyance-she was probably an avid fan. "Gilderoy Lockhart…?" he murmured, turning to Ron in question. "On the booklist, for school-weren't a lot of his books on there?"

"Six of his bestsellers, yes," Mr. Weasley replied in the younger's stead. "A huge waste of money, if you ask me-honestly, seven books for a single year of classes. How rude."

After an embarrassing photo-shoot with the extravagant and _blatantly_ blonde author followed by an even worse experience with the Malfoys, Harry easily separated himself from the Weasleys with a vague excuse, desperately needing some time to think or, more probably, mope about what he'd discovered about the family. Could he really depend on any of them at all? Or was it just Mrs. Weasley who had betrayed his trust so badly? He bowed his head and walked slowly. This would have to wait until…until he could deal with it.

With a heavy sigh, the twelve-year-old slouched into a chair outside a small café, just down the way from the bookshop, and blessedly not nearly as crowded as it. The heavy bag containing his schoolbooks slid to the ground with a loud 'thump', and he rolled his shoulders, glad to be rid of the weight at last.

He didn't order anything, but merely contented himself with watching the many wizards and witches pass by in order to distract himself from his thoughts. His eyes landed upon a well-dressed middle-aged woman carting two identical girls by their wrists. Neither of the girls wore anything near what the woman did-rather, they wore threadbare, tattered baby blue dresses, like one would expect children to wear if they were bound to get dirty. One's left shoe had a large hole in the side, with traces of tape that had worn off a while ago. Before he knew it, Harry had created a backstory for the three-the stepmother, who'd obviously married for money (he could vaguely make out a large bejeweled ring), was taking her stepdaughters to claim the money her husband had left her, because he'd recently died-ah, yes, they went into Gringotts! He must be at least partially right! The twins were the only children of the family, and not well looked after, if the state of their attire was anything to go by-wait, no, another boy was following the three, similarly dressed to the girls. The stepmother had money, apparently (Or used a rather astounding amount of loan money) but was frugal to the point of obsessiveness when she bought anything not meant for herself.

Harry blinked at the conclusions that ran through his mind and, eager to test it out again, looked at a man who was hurrying past in more formal attire. _'Businessman, but not an office worker, though, because he's going about in the mid-morning,'_ he thought._ 'His shoes are more comfortable and dirty than fancy and he's carrying a bulky briefcase with a logo of sorts on it, so I'd reckon he's a marketer of sorts, like those people who always try to sell stuff at the door that Uncle Vernon hate so much.'_ He blinked in mild shock when his observations turned out to be true(ish) once again. The man had stopped at the stalls near the entrance of Diagon Alley, opening his briefcase to show people entering an exiting either wares or papers of some sort. Harry squinted, trying to focus on exactly what the man was offering to the people passing through the entrance each ways, but his eyesight had failed him once again. He leaned back in frustration, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes tiredly. Never before had he realized his eyesight was so, well, _poor_. He thought glasses were supposed to fix that!

"'Ello, dearie. Anything I can get for y'?"

Harry jumped and turned to meet eyes with a waitress that seemed to be in her late twenties (but with magical folk, you never could really accurately tell), who was looking at him expectantly. "Er, um, no, sorry. I was just resting…"

The brunette woman smiled at him cheerfully. "'S no problem at all-easy t' get tired in this crowd, it is. If there's anythin' I c'n get f'r y', just call f'r Dana."

When she turned to walk away, Harry remembered his predicament and called out. "Wait! Uh, Dana." She turned again, and he looked down, flushing brightly. "Uh, is there…Is there anywhere I can get my eyes checked around here? It's just, I don't think my glasses are working very well for me…"

She laughed a bit and motioned down the alley to a short little building with a large, realistic blue eye staring down at the street from above the doorway, moving back and forth eerily. "You've muggle-bought glasses, eh? That's no problem-jus' go down t' that shop there, n' ask f'r Larry-he'll fix y' up so y'll ne'er need those things again."

"Wait, really?" Harry asked excitedly. "How?"

Dana shrugged. "'Ow many people d' ya see 'round 'ere wearing spectacles? Larry's the best eye-fixer around. 'Ell, he even offers _special_ specs t' people 'ee likes. Go on, then-jus' tell 'im Dana sent ya." She winked and headed back into the café before Harry could blurt out the flood of 'thank-you's' that wanted to pour out of his mouth. Instead, he sat back in a delightful sort of shock for all of a second before grabbing his book-bag and racing off to the store Dana had pointed him to.

Harry studiously avoided looking at the creepy eye staring down at him as he pushed open the door to enter the brightly-lit shop and was met with two walls covered in glasses frames on each side of the store and a very bored-looking man lounging behind a desk. Harry stepped forwards hesitantly, the wooden floor creaking beneath his feet.

"Hello, welcome to the Looking Glass," the man said in a monotone voice, brown eyes glazed over with the repetition he no doubt had to go through on a daily basis. "How may I help you?"

Harry gave him a shaky smile. "W-well, I was told to ask for Larry…and, uh, say that Dana sent me…?" His eyes flicked down to the somewhat cluttered desk and caught sight of a nameplate half-obscured by a mug of used quills: _Donovan Sh-._ Donovan sighed and stood, as if moving at all was an activity unworthy of his time or energy.

"I'll get him, then. He shouldn't be too busy today." He walked through a door Harry hadn't noticed before, and jumped when it slammed shut of its own accord behind him. The boy blinked and began looking around the glasses-infested storefront, noting actual eyes that wore contacts or spectacles advertised on the many posters pinned around. The posters advertised contacts that changed color with your emotion or were charmed to glow in the dark or give mild night-vision. Harry examined the ads with a new interest. He'd never realized that there could be such an interesting diversity-though, he really should've expected it, being in the magical world and all-but it was funny, because it looked kind of like the one Muggle eye doctor...place...he'd been dragged to when he was about eight. Several minutes later, the receptionist re-entered the store, followed by a tall, thin greyish-blonde-haired man with purple eyes that seemed to switch shades of violet at random-Harry recognized the effects from one of the advertisements he'd looked at before-and shook Harry's hand.

"Hello, there, always nice to meet a friend of Dana's," the man said cheerfully. "I'm Larry Silver, a pleasure to meet you. So, I take it you'd like your eyes fixed up, yes?" He bent down to peer into Harry's eyes before abruptly standing and motioning. "Follow me, then!"

Harry slowly followed the man through to the back of the store, where several people were either waiting in chairs at the side of the room or sitting at a table across from workers who were fitting them for either frames or contacts. A few of the adults looked up when they entered the room and offered a few smiles, which made Harry feel far more comfortable in the setting than if he'd been alone.

"Just take a seat here, please," Larry said, motioning at one of the tables to the right, farther away from the people in the 'waiting area'. "And I have to say this to each of our clients-Every employee here signs a secrecy contract in order to ensure patient confidentiality and discretion while here, as well as one ensuring that no intentional harm will be brought to our patients from the procedure. The examination takes about two minutes, and for the proper potion correction, five. It costs ten galleons for eye correction, fifteen for eye enhancements, and another five if you'd like the special contacts or glasses. Any questions before we start?"

"Well," Harry said with a shrug. "I kind of expected it to be a bit more expensive-at least, that's how it is in the Muggle world," he finished quickly, not wanting to offend or somehow slight the man.

Larry grinned in understanding. "Well, over here we only need to determine the right potion needed to fix your eyes. We don't have to carve up glass for you to be able to see, and I have a lot of good friends in the potion-making business who gives potions to me more cheaply than the regular market. Now, don't be too startled- this'll feel like your eyes have been filled with cold water for a few seconds." Harry took his glasses off, and Larry slowly waved his wand-likely to prevent Harry from startling-and sure enough, the boy's eyes suddenly felt cold, but the sensation disappeared just as quickly as it came. A piece of parchment paper he hadn't noticed before began filling with writing-mostly numbers that Harry could make neither head nor tail of. Exactly two minutes later, the writing was completely legible in dark green ink, and Larry frowned as he examined the numbers.

"Um, is something wrong?" It was obvious there was-the tightening of the man's lip, the furrowed brow, and the almost _angry_ glint in Larry's eyes made it subtly obvious to Harry-not that he would dare call him out on it and risk the wrath of what seemed to be an amiable person.

Larry's face smoothed over and smiled, though it was somewhat strained. "No, it's just a few potions I didn't expect for you to need. I'll be right back." He quickly stood and went through another door, leading to a storage room with potions lining the walls. The last thing Harry could make out before the door shut was a woman who Larry began speaking to in a concerned tone of voice. Frowning, the confused boy sat back, wondering what had elicited that sort of response from the kindly, if not over-energetic man.

Before he could reach any conclusive evidence, Larry returned with three potions in his hands and a sadder smile on his face. "Here you are, then. Three potions-one to correct your nearsightedness, one to make sure nothing affects your vision again, and one to slightly enhance your vision's focus."

Harry blinked. "I thought enhancements cost more…?"

Larry sighed. "For you, it's free. It's the least I can do."

"What do you mean, 'least you can do'?"

The man grimaced and propped his elbows on the table, peering down at Harry seriously. "I highly doubt you will enjoy what I have to say next, child, but I'm afraid it needs saying." He sighed. "Your vision problem was not caused by a normal issue, such as age, ancestry or such. It was caused by severe malnutrition at a young age, and would have led to blindness by the time you were in your late thirties to early forties, had you left it untreated," he stated, watching Harry's reaction closely. The boy seemed to fish for words to reply with, but none came, and do he continued. "Now, I don't know who you're living with or why, but I'd strongly suggest either leaving them as soon as possible, or, if absolutely necessary, emancipating yourself, though I wouldn't recommend the latter."

There was a stunned silence for several long seconds before Harry regained the nerve to speak. "W…why wouldn't you…recommend that?"

The violet-eyed man tilted his head in acknowledgement of the question. "I, myself went that route when I was younger, and nearly ended up starving on the streets. It's difficult to maintain an income to pay for bills and food when you're below the age of fifteen, even with a bit of a kick-start from the Ministry. I would strongly suggest getting yourself an apprenticeship-not only would it teach you valuable life skills, you'd be able to have your own place to stay and receive regular meals and care. But for now, you should take those potions-they're best served cold, after all."

Harry slowly nodded and reached for the potion farthest left, but Larry intervened, motioning to the middle one. "No, no, take this first-let's fix your nearsightedness prior to the prevention, alright?"

"Oh, uh, sure." As soon as he'd taken the potions in the correct order, a slight stinging sensation made itself known behind his eyes, not unlike the feeling one gets when one's limbs had fallen asleep. Larry looked at him expectantly for several moments and waved his wand once again.

"And…that's it!" the man exclaimed happily.

Harry stared in disbelief, eyeing his glasses, which were much…_uglier_ than he'd previously realized. "That's it? Really? I was expecting something more, well, _dramatic_. Like extensive corrective charms and potions and a painful procedure or something."

"Really, really," Larry confirmed, dancing forward to grab his glasses and frown at them. "Honestly, these didn't suit you at all…but glasses still would suit you well, just not these. How about, mm, rectangular frames?" He looked up and listed his next words on his fingers. "We've got ones with night vision, telescopic, lip-reading-it gives you little subtitles, see-oh, heat-vision, works _wonders_ with seeing invisible things like animals or people-"

"So _that's_ how Dumbledore does it," Harry muttered. Larry grinned back and mimed zipping and locking his lips shut.

"Patient confidentiality," he replied with a wink. "We've also got lens that'll keep your eyes shielded from the sun, but doesn't decrease visibility, and ones that'll make people forget what your eyes look like. You could also combine two of those for a total of eight galleons."

'_So many cool choices!'_ Harry thought excitedly, but quickly calmed himself and wondered which would be the most beneficial in the long run. _'Lip-reading and…telescopic, I think. But, I wonder…'_ "Um, Mr. Silver-"

"Just Larry, please."

"Alright, uh, Larry then…Just out of curiosity, do you have glasses that could be charmed to record whatever I'm looking at?"

Larry shook his head. "Sorry, we're not allowed to sell thing like that to minors, as much as I like you. Too easy to cheat in school with things like that, apparently."

"Oh." His face burned in embarrassment. "Then, I'll take glasses with the telescopic vision and lip-reading…?"

The man positively beamed. _"Wonderful!_ Let's go back out front-I have just the thing for you."

As soon as Harry had received his glasses, paid and profusely thanked Larry, he left and went to find the Weasleys, marveling over his vastly better sight and easily spotting them by Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Shoppe. Initializing the 'telescopic vision' option, he could easily make out the freckles across each Weasley's face. With a grin, he initialized the 'lip-reading' tool and read the subtitles below each of the speaking members' faces. It was confusing at first, but he finally got the hang of it and read, _'Where's Harry?'_ under Ron's face and a just as confused _'I don't know, maybe he wandered off someplace?' _under Ginny's. Realizing that he should make his presence known once more unless he wanted a Diagon-Alley-wide manhunt for him, Harry hurried forwards and grinned at Ron.

"Hey, just had to get something checked," he said happily. Ron looked up and blinked.

"Blimey, Harry, did you get new glasses?" The redhead peered at them. "They're…really nice. Must've cost a lot." A brief but not very subtle look of jealousy flitted across Ron's face, but Harry refused to acknowledge it.

"No, actually, they weren't that much," Harry said, taking a seat between Ron and Ginny, who looked about to faint. "It's a massive improvement, though. I didn't realize how much I was missing with my old glasses!"

"Th…they look…really nice," Ginny squeaked quietly. Harry smiled back, causing her to duck her head in tomato-red embarrassment.

"Anyways, mum wants to head back as soon as we've got potion supplies," Ron said dismissively, turning to look at the crowds over his shoulder and abruptly standing. "Well, come on!" Harry shrugged, slightly upset about his friend's obvious bad mood and slowly followed him back. Just as they were about to enter the apothecary Harry turned back and saw Mr. Borgin leaning against the wall leading into Knockturne Alley, casually holding up a slip of paper. The boy frowned at the man but zoomed in on it. It said-

'_Apprentice Needed'._

**And that there's a wrap…for now. **

**Hm, I wonder what's on Borgin's mind? And how did he find out that Harry was told to look for an apprenticeship? XD**

**In reply to one of my reviews (MWAAAAHHHH! Reviews~! X3), no, I do not intend to turn this into a Dumbledore- or Weasley- bashing fic. Normal, stable twelve-year-old-children don't know how to hide emotion, especially if you've been raised in a large, caring family without much money. You'd want more, right? So does Ron, and the only way he knows how to express his want for nicer things is through jealousy, not tact. In Molly's case, let's put it this way-if you were given unlimited access to a vault of gold with very little chance of being caught (and could finally pay for at least above-average clothes and items for once), would you want to give that up easily?  
**

**I can't promise consistent updates, but I'm feeling good about this story, so I'll probably be more dedicated than is strictly normal-that is to say, I actually plan to **_**update**_** this time. Hopefully. But I have commitment issues, so... *Coughs and looks away* Thank you for reading, by the way, if you've gotten this far and not curled up and died of boredom. You're awesome, all two of you.**

**This story will probably be slow-paced at first, and then skim the Hogwarts years later on, highlighting the summers between most of the time, as those are much more integral to the developing of his character as Moriarty. Harry's going to start seeing the 'dark side' of Hogwarts very soon-and it won't just start with the Slytherins. **

**- And yes, I know the 'telescopic vision' could be used for cheating, but let's just say the ministry was as incompetent as always and left the usual gaping loopholes in everything. Seriously, you could try and take over the Ministry and get off without...oh, wait.**


	2. Sorry, all

**This story is now ABANDONED.**

**I likely will not find the time or willpower to focus on this anytime in the near future. I apologize to whoever wants to see this story go on, and I realize that one chapter is hardly enough to truly signify the serious beginning of a story, so I'll give you all this: **

**If anyone wishes to adopt this story, send a PM to me. If I feel that you can continue it as well as, if not even better than I, then I will send an affirmative reply and post a link to your profile (or story continuation) for the people who want to continue reading. **

**I have only one-no, two-requests for the potential person who wants to continue this: One: Keep the title, and try to stay within the realm of reality (That is, keep the cause-effect flow of the plotline), and Two: Mention me in the summary…but feel free to change it.**

**If I don't reply, consider your request declined. If I give a negative reply, also consider your request declined.**

**Reposting/continuing this story without my permission **_**will**_** result in a report to the Admin. **

**I wish you better luck than I.**


End file.
